Legacy of Lies- The Haunting of Hilda

by Netta Newbound

  “No way. You want to see her, she’s a dried up old prune. Honestly, she’s tried all sorts to get out of doing the job she’s employed to do.”

  “What did Chris say about it?”

  “That she’s a manipulative bitch who’s got it in for him. She’s never liked him and thought she should’ve been given the job, not him.”

  I knew of the woman in question as Chris had talked to me at length about her on more than one occasion since he’d been taken on as a department manager. They employed him with the specific instruction to sort out the dead wood—staff who had become stagnant in their roles over the years, and those who milked the system for all they were worth, with no intention of putting in a full week’s work. “What do his bosses say? Surely they know exactly the type of person she is. Why are they having a bar of it?”

  “They’re fully aware of it but the system is designed this way. She’s made an allegation at the end of the day, which leaves them with very little choice. If they’re not seen to take her claims seriously, then she could cause more trouble for them. It’s a case of facing the situation head on and dealing with Chris, even though everyone knows what she’s saying is utter bullshit. The team they’ve brought in to investigate are an independent outfit so his bosses won’t have a say in any of it, unfortunately. All they can do, once it’s been dealt with, is go through the painstaking process of performance management which won’t make a blind bit of difference to her. Every idiot is able to toe the line for so long when they know they’re being watched.”

  “Could Chris lose his job then?”

  “Yeah, but that’s not all. If they believe her, it will go on his otherwise spotless record. He’ll be ruined.”

  “Aw, hell, Charlie. She ought to be ashamed of herself—vile woman. It’s a wonder you haven’t paid her a visit. I don’t think I’d be able to help myself.”

  “Chris has made me swear on the kids’ lives I won’t do anything silly. But she’ll get her comeuppance. Karma’s a doozy of a bitch.”

  “I’m so sorry for mithering you with my shit. It all sounds silly now compared with your problems.”

  “Glad my miserable existence could help you out.” She laughed.

  I’d hung the phone up a few minutes later when Pete opened the door and popped his head in. He nodded at me curtly and then he was gone. Soon after, I heard him hammering in the back of the house, clearly still angry with me.

  Chapter 29

  Pete and I avoided each other for the rest of the morning.

  Mum, on the other hand, seemed her usual self and didn’t even appear to remember what had happened during the early hours. We ate breakfast together and then she headed back to her room. I still didn’t totally trust that she didn’t know what had happened last night, so I gave her a few minutes before following her in the pretence of looking for something or other. I found her busily painting again. She seemed miles away.

  My eyes were drawn to the newly framed photo she’d placed on her dressing table—my dad and Uncle Declan at the back, Fergie, Wendy and Neil at the front. “I didn’t know you’d bought a new frame for this.”

  “Neil bought it for me. I hated that day.”

  Startled, I shook my head. “Really? Why do you have it pride of place then?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Were you there, Mum?”

  She nodded. “I took the picture.”

  “Why do you hate it, then?”

  “Him. I don’t trust him.” She pointed the paintbrush at uncle Declan.

  This surprised me. I’d never really liked him myself, in fact he’d terrified me as a kid, but I had no idea Mum had felt the same. How come I’d never noticed? “Why didn’t you trust him?” I asked, trying to keep my questions and tone steady while she was talking.

  “Because of the gold.”

  “The missing gold?”

  She nodded and continued painting, distracted once again.

  “Mum!”

  She jumped, her eyebrows knitted together, and she glared at me. “What?”

  “Did you mean the missing gold?”

  “Of course I did. It was all any of them could talk about—well, almost all of them.” She grinned at me and tapped the end of the paintbrush to the side of her nose. “They wanted to know where your uncle had hidden it, but they never found out. Nobody did.”

  “So it was Uncle Declan who’d stolen the gold?”

  “They all stole the gold, Hilly-billy—just Declan hid it.”

  My head was in a spin. “Could that be why he died? Was someone trying to get their hands on the missing gold?”

  She ignored me, once again engrossed in her own world.

  “Mum. I need you to look at me a sec. It’s important. How much gold are we talking?”

  “Forty-two bars. Worth a tidy amount back then.”

  “Bloody hell, Mum. It’s worth a tidy amount today, I’d say. How come it was never reported? Surely there were procedures in place to prevent thefts occurring like that?”

  “Of course, there were, but between them all, they had it covered.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you like this colour?” She shoved a tube of golden-brown paint towards me.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “If I add some amber flecks, it’s the same colour as your dad’s eyes.”

  “What did you mean, Mum?”

  “I mean your dad’s eyes were this exact colour.”

  “No. I get that, but what did you mean about having it covered? The gold, Mum.”

  She flapped her hand at me as you would an annoying fly and focused once again on the canvas.

  I knew there was no point continuing. I wouldn’t get anywhere with her now—the window of clarity had closed. Maybe she was aware of what she was doing, but I doubted it. Even so, it still frustrated the heck out of me. I desperately needed to talk to Pete, but I was too stubborn to approach him, still smarting from his sulky treatment of me, and it was too late to call Charlie back.

  Heading back to the snug, I opened my laptop and researched the price of a standard gold bar. I almost died—four hundred and sixty-six thousand pound a bar. And if what Mum said was correct, that would mean almost twenty million quid in total. Certainly worthy of a murder or two, I suspected.

  I shuddered as an icy chill ran through my veins.

  “What’s wrong now?” Pete’s unexpected interruption caused me to squeal and slam the laptop shut. He eyed me with suspicion, shook his head and turned on his heel.

  “No, Pete. Wait.” I ran after him into our bedroom. “I need to speak to you.”

  “Really? You didn’t seem to want to speak to me a second ago.”

  “You startled me, that’s all. Can I make you a coffee and a sandwich?”

  He shrugged, but I could tell he was thawing a little. However, before I jumped in feet first with my new bombshell, I needed to explain about last night—apologise even, if that’s what was required to get him on side.

  “I’ll be through once I’ve used the bathroom.” He began to undo his jeans and I beat a hasty retreat. I wasn’t the type of person who liked accompanying my partner to the loo—some things were meant to be private.

  I headed back to the snug and set about preparing coffee and bacon sandwiches. I hoped today would be the last day I would have to cook in the cramped room. Our kitchen should be set up soon.

  The bacon smelled divine and I prayed the aroma wouldn’t coax Mum out of her room, I was still trying to feed her good food without her actually knowing what I was up to and, apart from the Bakewell tart the other day, we’d been doing pretty good. I would prefer Pete to have had fruit and yogurt too, but he was clearly still sulking. He could be so childish when he wanted to be, which frustrated the hell out of me. If I was ever angry or annoyed with him, I’d make my feelings known and then forget about it. I didn’t do sulking.

  Once Pete appeared, we made strained small talk while he ate. My mouth was salivating
at the sight of the bacon butties.

  “Who was on the phone earlier?” he asked.

  “Charlie. Chris is having problems at work with that woman again. He’s been suspended.”

  “Bloody hell! Why?”

  I filled him in on the entire conversation I’d had with my sister.

  “If they find she’s lied, they should be able to prosecute her—there’s far too much of this shit happening recently. It’s terrifying to be a man in this day and age.”

  “I know, but they won’t. All the cases of sexual harassment on the news make people nervous. They won’t want to be seen as the company who allows sexual harassment in the workplace. So the chances are Chris will be the one to be made the example of.”

  “I hope not but shit sticks whether it’s true or not. Poor Chris. Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “Not really, but first I want to apologise for last night. I must’ve been dreaming like you said. It was so real though—I could’ve sworn there was another person besides Mum on the bed.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “So you’re not claiming it was a ghost again?”

  I shook my head.

  “No, silly. I was dreaming, obviously.”

  “Good. Because if word gets out this place might be haunted, we’d never sell the bloody thing.”

  I snorted. “As if I’d tell anyone that.”

  “Make sure you don’t or we’ll be stuck with a lemon.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t breathe a word of it.”

  “But you do think it’s haunted?”

  I rolled my eyes and smiled. “I don’t know, babe. How can I convince you I saw my grandmother? Maybe I did and maybe I didn’t, but it seemed so real at the time.”

  He nodded. “I know you think you saw her but I think it was just the stimulation of everything happening all at once—your mum being released after all this time, the memories of this house—mostly negative memories, if I’m right?”

  I nodded, hugging myself.

  “And your brain is trying to make some sense out of it all. Your mum painted a lifelike portrait of your dad yesterday, which obviously shook you up and caused you to have a dream about it. And that’s all it was, love—a dream.”

  “I know.”

  “So, what did you want to tell me?”

  “Mum had a few minutes of clarity this morning. You know when she mentioned some missing gold a while ago?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She told me today they were all in on it. Between them they stole forty-two gold bars and Uncle Declan hid them somewhere.”

  Pete scratched his chin. “Do you think she’s making it up?”

  “I don’t know. She seemed to know what she’s talking about. Why would she make it up?”

  He took a sip of his coffee and then pressed his lips together several times before continuing. “I’ve no idea. But forty-two gold bars seem a little too far-fetched. Don’t you think?”

  “Tell me about it. I did a search—at today’s rates we’re talking almost twenty million pounds.

  “Fuck me. Did she say where he hid it?”

  “She doesn’t know. He didn’t tell a soul, apparently. But I think someone knew. Do you think that could be why uncle Declan and my dad were killed?”

  Chapter 30

  Pete stared at me open-mouthed.

  “Well, say something.”

  “Killed? By who? Your mum?”

  “Of course it wasn’t Mum.”

  “Then who? Who else knew about this supposed gold?”

  “The people involved are all dead or long gone apart from Mum and one other…”

  “Who?”

  “Shit, Pete, do I have to spell it out for you?”

  He shrugged. “I think you’d better.”

  “Neil, of course!” I hissed. “You said yourself he was behaving strangely. Do you think the gold bars could be hidden in the back of the paintings?”

  Pete spluttered on his coffee.

  “What’s so funny?”

  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Do you know how heavy a gold bar is? There’s no way they could be there. And besides, Neil might be a little odd sometimes, but murder? Really?”

  “Then why is he hanging around all the time? He’s after something. What if he’s been waiting for Mum to be released all these years? She could be in danger.”

  “Give over. Neil is no more a murderer than you or me.”

  “Then how else can you explain why he’s been hanging around like a bad smell since she was released?”

  “He’s lonely. Have you even considered he might genuinely care for your mum?”

  I shrugged, feeling a little guilty.

  “That’s a massive accusation. I don’t even know why you would think it. We have no proof there was any stolen gold—just the ramblings of a confused woman.”

  “I know, I know. But just consider it for a second. Uncle Declan and Dad were both killed in the same bedroom.”

  “The same room your grandparents killed themselves in—or are you gonna tell me Neil was responsible for their deaths too?”

  I shook my head. Knowing how crazy I sounded.

  “It doesn’t make sense. Neil didn’t know we were bringing your mum back here. Nobody did. And what were the chances of us buying this house? It’s all just coincidence, babe. It’s got to be.”

  “But someone killed my dad and it wasn’t Mum, I’m certain of that much. She loved him. And what if they did manage to steal all that gold? Where the hell is it?”

  “Do you really think there could be twenty million quid worth of gold stashed about the place?”

  “I do, yeah. It makes sense. Dad was killed for a reason.”

  “Say you are right. Why kill the only people who could lead you to the gold?”

  “I don’t know, Pete. Maybe the killer found the gold back then.”

  “In that case it can’t be Neil. He doesn’t have a pot to piss in by the looks of things.”

  “I know.” I exhaled noisily and buried my head in my hands. “It could’ve been that Fergie bloke? Neil said he’d gone to Australia around that time.”

  “He also said this Fergie had already died when he tried to find him.”

  “That doesn’t mean he didn’t do it. He could’ve stolen the gold, killed my dad and scarpered. Maybe he lived out the rest of his life in luxury.”

  He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Possible, I guess. Although if there was a stash of gold bars, I’d much rather believe it’s still here, hiding in plain sight.”

  “Of course, I do too. But the odds aren’t great considering the house has been moved and gutted already. But if we found it, at least we’d be able to clear Mum’s name. Without it, we can’t tell the police about a historic robbery that was never even reported—they’ll think we’re fruit loops.”

  “Yeah. There would be no point telling the police anything. Even if they did believe us, it wouldn’t make any difference. Your mum has already served her time and we have no evidence—totally pointless.”

  “Well, I can guarantee Dad didn’t find it. We weren’t exactly broke back then, but we certainly weren’t loaded. I remember each time Mum sold a painting it was a big deal.”

  “Did your mum say who else knew about the gold?”

  “You’re talking as though you believe her now.” I grinned.

  “Just shows how greed can make a believer of even the most cynical of us.”

  “It’s like something you watch on TV or read about, isn’t it? What if it is actually real? Dad could’ve died because of an actual gold heist. Even if we found the gold, all telling the police would do is sully my dad’s name on top of everything else. If my entire family were involved in a huge embezzlement operation that had never been discovered, it would be stupid to draw attention to it now.”

  He reached across the table for my hands. “I agree. It’s not as if the ramblings of your mother’s confused mind would hold up in court any
way, and that’s all we’ve got at this stage.”

  “I guess we could talk to Neil though. Mum said they were all in on it and he’s got all his marbles intact.”

  “Yes. I agree. Let’s ask him.”

  Chapter 31

  Neil didn’t visit over the next couple of days, which was odd considering he’d not been away from the place since Mum came home.

  “Do you think he knows?” I asked Pete.

  He rolled his eyes. “How could he possibly know?”

  “Maybe he has the house bugged.”

  Pete laughed. “Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too far now?”

  I shrugged. “Well, what other reason could there be?”

  “I haven’t a clue. Maybe he’s sick? Or met someone else on Tinder?”

  It was my turn to laugh. The thought of Neil swiping left and right tickled me.

  Pete pressed the nail gun against the decking timber and fired. The sound reverberated across the deck and through my bare feet.

  “Have you nearly finished?” The deck certainly looked impressive. It was huge and spread around the side of the house and joined up to the original veranda that wrapped around half of the house. The kitchen was also finished and set up, and all that remained to be done inside was the new carpet fitted in the lounge-dining room.

  “Not much longer. I’ll be in in a few minutes. Do you want to put the kettle on?”

  I trudged inside and set about making a pot of coffee. Then I popped my head into Mum’s room. She was fully dressed, seated on top of the bed, her head in a hard-backed art book. “Fancy a coffee, Mum?”

  She closed the book and placed it beside her on the bed. “No, thanks, love. I might just have forty winks.”

  I stroked her forehead and paused for a moment, worried she might be ill, but she seemed okay. “You feeling alright?”

  “I’m fine, Hilly-billy—just tired.” She closed her eyes and sank a little further into her pillow.